MINDSALAD

130811. a real love/hate relationship.

Hate is a strong word. I know that. And as much as I love her, some days I hate her. I hate the fact that she looks down on people who aren’t as fortunate as her. I hate the fact that she feels entitled to everything my dad has ever worked for. I hate the fact that no matter what I do, she always thinks she knows better.

No, it isn’t unreasonable that there is beginning to be more female doctors than male.

No, just because someone is adopted, doesn’t mean they’re a bad person.

No, pushing my nose upwards in my spare time will not shape it permanently sharper.

No, Tiger Wood’s wife did not sabotage his career.

No, she shouldn’t have stayed with him even if he cheated on her with 10 different girls.

No, I don’t care that you don’t approve of my decision to buy a used rather than new bed frame.

No, I won’t change my mind, even if it’s the 7th time you’ve asked.

No, it is not “stupid” that I want to grow out my hair and donate it to cancer patients again.

No, I didn’t my “brains” from you. I got them from Dad.

No, I don’t think it’s okay that you threaten to leave to wherever you want in the world, every time you and Dad get in a fight. 

Dad worked 12 hours a day, 7 days a week up until about 10 years ago. And even after he pays for 4-5 overseas vacations every single year, you have the audacity to tell him that he doesn’t provide you with enough?

Yes, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me growing up. But at times, you embarrass me. Your lack of education and real-world experience bothers me. Your stubbornness frustrates me. But worst of all, your arrogance and conceit is what is most bothersome. I’m sorry, but you’re a housewife.  A silly desperate housewife that sits around gossiping with her friends, bragging about their kids. And that’s fine, but don’t you dare judge and ridicule me for the choices I make in my life.

I love you. I appreciate you. But I am no longer a kid, and do not deserve to be treated like one.

220511. empty hearts.

Every so often, I get this pang of nostalgia. The yearning to lie in bed, next to T, just talking about a whole lot of nothing. Without a worry in the world, just watching the sun reach through the blinds.

I miss home. I miss my friends. I miss the people who fully understand everything that lies beneath the superficial version of me. 

It’s funny. I always thought I was one to love change. To enjoy being challenged by the dynamic nature of a new environment. And I think for the most part I am. But every once so often, I miss my roots. 

August can’t come fast enough.

210411. forever young.

“On Saturday, Mom and I have decided to have dinner among ourselves and your friends only.” — Dad.

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My brother and I have been with our significant others for nearly 3 years each. My sister is approaching 11 years in her relationship. My parents still call them, our “friends”. haha.